I realize then that not only did Shane get in a formidable check, but he now has the puck.
Annnnd he’s heading toward the Avalanche net unimpeded.
“Go, go, go,” I murmur under my breath.
Shane shoots, and for a beat, it’s like the puck is in slow motion. It looks like it’s going to go in above the goaltender’s left shoulder, but at the last second—again, like in slow-mo—the jerk raises his glove and catches it.
“Fuck, that was our chance,” Shay laments as she slides back into place.
I realize then that I, too, was on the edge of my seat, as was most everybody.
Slumping back, I look up at the Jumbotron. “Crap, there’s only a little over three minutes left,” I say.
“Looks like we’re going to sudden-death overtime,” Shay responds.
I blow out a breath. “Well, that will be exciting.”
It should be. But damn, I just wish we could win the game in regulation. The stress is making me antsy.
As I shift around in my seat, unable to stay still, the Avalanche begin to dominate.
“Come on,” Shay screams, banging on the glass. “Let’s get it together, guys. At this rate, we’re not going to make it to overtime!”
She’s right. It’s like the wheels are coming off. The Bears players are making mistakes, looking disjointed.
That’s why it’s no surprise when that damn Weeks guy gets the puck on a breakaway and powers his way to our net, where he shoots…and scores.
Fuck.
A collective sigh of disappointment rolls throughout the arena, as there are now only two minutes and ten seconds left.
That goal we almost got from Shane Thoma really hurts now.
The Bears pull it together and start playing a more cohesive game, but it’s too little, too late.
Time ticks down, and the Avalanche win the game 1–0.
I let out a groan, and Shay says, “Hey, look at it this way—at least now you won’t miss any Bears’ playoff hockey while you’re away.”
She’s right about that. Our team is now done until next season.
“True,” I reply with a resigned sigh.
Though I’m sad the Bears couldn’t move on to the next round, I’m happy that they made it this far.
It really is a great accomplishment.
But what makes me feel even better, and the loss not sting as much, is that in three short days, I’ll be sitting on the beach in my bikini, enjoying some peace and solitude while I mend my broken heart.
Shit, I have officially traded ice for heat.
To say it’s hot down here on this little island in the Bahamas would be an understatement.
It is stifling.
The humidity is off the charts too. I can’t wait to get to my beach house rental and blast the air-conditioning.
I hired a driver to pick me up at the airport, and I’m in his car now. The bad thing is, his cooling system is on the fritz.
